


don't watch the mouth, don't watch the hands - watch the eyes

by summer_days



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 15, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Castiel knows sign language, Chuck Shurley is God, Chuck is a terrible person, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s15e07 Last Call, Fratricide, Gen, I cannot emphasize that enough, Sam Winchester is not Chuck's favorite character, Season/Series 15, Temporary Character Death, This started as a crack idea between two friends that morphed into this, Witch Sam Winchester, but he's mine, definitely post, he is also Mr. Not Physically Appearing in this Fic, timeline is kinda ambiguous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27331705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summer_days/pseuds/summer_days
Summary: "Chuck only likes one kind of ending - you kill me or I kill you."Chuck gets his ending - this is what happens after.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	don't watch the mouth, don't watch the hands - watch the eyes

**Author's Note:**

> My friend Danielle and I were catching up on early Season 15 during the spring and she dropped this idea on me. All thanks go her way - without her it would not exist.

Sam looks up at his brother, something he hasn’t done in years. Not since before he left for Stanford, when he looked up to his brother in both senses of the word. 

Not since five years ago in that abandoned Mexican restaurant, as he knelt on the floor in front of his big brother - just as he does now. This scene is almost identical, though Sam’s a little less beat up and Dean’s a little more. Dean’s wearing the same shirt, even. The scenery’s different - this time the brothers are outside, their argument having brought them to one of the clearings by the Bunker. It was a stupid disagreement that spiraled into the two of them each reading the other’s long and storied rap sheet from the last forty-plus years, leading to this. The other, major difference, between then and now, is the weapon in Dean’s hands. Instead of a scythe Dean barely knows how to use, Sam’s brother holds a familiar handgun, leveled at Sam’s heart. 

“Dean, please,” Sam breathes, but he knows it doesn’t matter. Nothing can change this - it was meant to be, after all. 

Dean’s hands are steady, though his eyes shine with unspoken emotion. “I have to do this,” he says firmly. “You left me no choice, Sam.” Sam. Not Sammy, and that hurts more than any physical wound Dean could inflict, hurts more than any barb thrown at him earlier. His brother is already distancing himself, but Sam forces himself to hold Dean’s gaze, to not look away as Dean continues talking. Eyes, after all, are the window to the soul, and Dean’s are no different. “After everything you’ve done…you know it has to end this way.” 

Sam nods, the gesture understanding and encouraging all at once as he smiles a watery smile. “I know.” In the distance growing louder Sam can hear running feet, and knows they don’t have much time before they have an audience. “Dean,” he tries - just the name. Because he only needs the name, and Dean’s face hardens. 

He cocks the gun, and Sam knows his brother’s aim will be true. “There’s no other way,” Dean repeats, and Sam knows their time is up even before he hears Cas call Dean’s name with undisguised panic. 

He holds Dean’s gaze and gives a slow nod, this one permission and absolution rolled into one gesture. “Do it,” he says, the words almost a whisper, so much softer than they were five years ago. But unlike five years ago, Sam keeps his eyes open as his brother pulls the trigger. The last thing he hears is Cas and Eileen’s anguished cries, and the last thing he sees are the familiar green eyes of his brother. 

* * *

_Dean. I have an idea._

_About?_

_How we can get Chuck to leave._

_I’m listening._

_Look, Chuck already knows what he wants, right?_

_Yeah, either you kill me or I kill you. But that’s never gonna happen._

_…_

_Sam…_

_Dean. Chuck’s a writer. And he’s not gonna stop until he gets what he wants._

_Sam-_

_So why don’t we give him what he wants?_

* * *

Castiel can’t believe what he’s seeing. Dean…shot Sam. He knows they’ve been having problems recently, more arguments than usual, but he’d figured - they’re brothers. And he thought that, after everything they’ve been through, with what they’re up against, that they would never…could never, do _this._

“Dean?” His voice is cautious as he approaches his old friend, while Eileen falls to the ground next to Sam’s body. 

“I had to.” Dean’s voice is a whisper, full of regret. “There was no other way. You can’t…you can’t understand.” 

Castiel knows that nothing he says will get through to his friend right now, but he lays a hand on the man’s shoulder regardless. Whatever caused this, it has to have been Chuck’s doing somehow. He doesn’t believe - _can’t_ believe, that Dean would do this on his own, without outside influence. Castiel looks down, to where Eileen has been frantically searching for signs of life he knows she won’t find. When she looks up, tears streaming down her face, the only thing Castiel can offer is a nod. _He’s gone._

“We should bury him.” 

Those words from Dean are a surprise for Castiel to hear. “I would have thought you’d want to give him a hunter’s funeral.” 

Castiel doesn’t miss the way Dean squeezes his eyes shut, like he’s holding back tears, and suddenly understands. If Dean burns his brother’s body, it would mean giving up hope Sam could still come back. Dean may have shot Sam, but he can’t bring himself to burn him. Chuck still hasn’t won. 

“He’ll need a body when we bring him back.”

Castiel blinks at Eileen’s statement and has to stop himself from instantly dashing all her hopes. No one from Heaven or Hell has either the will or ability to help them, and Castiel has severe doubts Billie will give any of them another pass. There’s no cheating death this time - not even for a Winchester.

* * *

_Will it work?_

_There’s no reason it shouldn’t. I followed all her notes, double checked it against her journals - the only thing that might not be up to speed is the delay, but that was just a matter of modifying the existing charm._

_…Sam, why can’t I be the one to do this?_

_Dean, we’ve been over this. I have the most experience with spellcasting-_

_That’s not what I-_

_Just, let me finish?_

_…_

_I have the most experience with spellcasting, I have the, you-know. And…because I think it has to be me. _

_What?_

_With all these visions, with this, connection I have to him… I get the feeling Chuck doesn’t like me very much._

_Sammy-_

_No, it’s okay. This way…he won’t poke so much at it. Because he’ll be getting what he wants. After all, that’s the whole point, right?_

* * *

It’s two days later, and Castiel stands side by side with Dean and Eileen. In front of them is a wooden coffin Dean had mostly crafted by himself, refusing Castiel’s help until the human had been physically unable to continue. It fits Sam’s six foot four frame perfectly, and Castiel tries not to think too hard about that. 

A hole has been dug next to the coffin, the typical six foot down Sam and Dean have been digging up for decades, and Castiel is currently trying not to think too hard about _that_ either - the fact that they’re burying _Sam._ Dean’s brother, and Castiel’s friend. Because Sam is dead, because Dean pulled the trigger, because Chuck was pulling the strings and couldn’t just leave them _alone._

The three of them are silent for a few moments, then Castiel speaks because he can’t take it. “Maybe there’s still a way to bring him back.” Castiel knows Eileen combed through the archives with him and found nothing, knows she and he have looked _everywhere_. But, maybe… “Maybe we missed something.” 

“You didn’t.” Dean’s voice is quiet, barely a whisper, and Castiel can _hear_ the emotion his friend is keeping a tight leash on. “Sam and I have combed through that library so many times. I know you didn’t. Demons won’t deal with us, no angel has the juice anymore, and that’s even assuming Billie would let us come back _again_.” 

Castiel can’t believe what he’s hearing. “So that’s it? You’re giving up?” 

“I’m facing the facts, Cas!” Dean whirls on him, letting Castiel see the anger and desperation on the man’s face. And it takes Castiel a moment, but he figures out what Dean isn’t letting himself say. Dean has made his decision, has made reluctant peace with it, and Castiel pushing at him isn’t helping. “You think I want to give up on him?” Dean’s outburst continues, and Castiel lets him yell, knowing his friend needs to get this out. “After everything? That’s the _last_ thing I want to do. But what other choice is there? Chuck backed us into a corner.” 

Dean suddenly turns his anger skyward and starts _really_ yelling. “You hear that, you bastard? You won! You got what you wanted. One brother killed the other. Are you happy now? You won!” Castiel watches with sorrow as Dean deflates and lets his gaze fall to one side, not looking at him, or Eileen, or the coffin before them, and whispers once more. “You won.” 

A pulse of satisfaction goes through the universe, and Castiel blinks. Abruptly, the sensation vanishes, along with a presence that has _always_ been around, even when He was hiding. The universe is different, and it takes Castiel a moment to figure out how to articulate it. 

“He’s gone.”

Dean’s head snaps up at that, an unreadable expression on his face. “Who?” 

“Chuck,” Castiel tells him. “God. He just…left.” 

Eileen looks confused, but Dean seems almost…hopeful? “Are you sure?” 

Castiel nods. “He’s not hidden, this isn’t like last time. It’s…it’s different. He’s left our universe. We’re alone.” 

Dean’s reaction to the news makes absolutely no sense to Castiel. His friend lets out a long exhale. “Finally,” he mutters. “It worked.” The man strides over to the coffin and knocks on the lid. “Yo, Sammy! You can come out now, we did it! He’s gone!” 

Castiel exchanges a look with Eileen and sees her hands wave in a pattern he recognizes as meaning ‘what the fuck’. 

‘I don’t know’, Castiel signs back, and Eileen does a double take. 

‘What the fuck. When did you learn-’ 

Castiel’s attention is grabbed by a banging sound and a familiar voice - both coming from _inside_ the coffin. “Finally! Thought He’d never leave.” 

Out of the corner of his eye Castiel sees Eileen sign ‘what the fuck’ again, and he has no answer for her. The two of them watch in stunned disbelief as the lid of the coffin gets pried up and _Sam_ shoves it off with a grunt. Alive and breathing Sam Winchester - soul and all. 

“Dude. Did you have to nail it down so hard?” 

“What can I say?” Dean says with a grin, as though Sam _hasn’t_ been dead for two days and been randomly resurrected when they thought there was no hope. “I’m a professional.” 

Sam snorts, but accepts Dean’s hand to haul himself to standing. The younger Winchester seems to catch sight of Castiel and Eileen and the easy humor falls off his face. “Right.” He steps towards them with a nervous smile. “Hey, guys.” 

Castiel and Eileen look at each other, and Castiel signs and says what they’re both thinking. “What the fuck Sam.” 

* * *

_Are we going to tell Cas and Eileen?_

_We can’t. We can’t risk Chuck finding out. The less we talk about it - the fewer people who know - the better chance we have of pulling this off._

_I don’t like it._

_I don’t like it either, Dean, but if we want this to work-_

_I know, I know. But when this is all over, we’re telling them it was your idea._

* * *

“It was Sam’s idea.” 

Sam levels a glare at his brother, but it doesn’t have any actual anger behind it. He’s still practically giddy with the knowledge that their plan _worked._ Chuck’s gone. And for the first time _ever_ , it’s just them in their universe. No one’s pulling the strings. 

“Sam?” 

Sam refocuses on Cas’s questioning tone, even as he bumps Dean’s shoulder with his own. A silent _I’m here, and I’m not leaving._

“How, exactly, are you…?” 

“Alive?” Sam finishes his friend’s question with a smile before reaching up and pulling down the collar of his shirt. There, on his upper right shoulder, is the thin line of a healing cut, but Sam can tell by the confused expressions on Cas and Eileen’s faces that he has cleared nothing up for them. So he starts explaining. “When Rowena died, she left me all her things. Ingredients, materials, herbs, spell books - and her journals. We knew angels, demons, and Death wouldn’t bring me back,” he says with a glance at Dean - they had discussed this all before, after all. “But magic could.” 

Cas blinks and Sam watches as the angel’s confusion clears. “A resurrection spell.” 

Sam nods. “I followed Rowena’s notes and made one, modifying the charm attached to it to take effect forty-eight hours after my death. Give you guys time to make it convincing.” 

“What if we’d burned you?” The question comes from Eileen, and Sam gives her a reassuring smile. 

“I still would have come back. Rowena was burned, and one of these brought her back. It’s powerful stuff.” 

“But…” Cas looks like he’s trying to figure out how he wants to word his next question, and Sam is willing to let him. After a few moments, Cas starts up again. “How did you know Chuck would leave?” 

Sam exchanges a look with his brother, trying to decide which of them wants to take that. Dean ends up stepping up to the plate. “Honestly? We didn’t,” Dean tells them. “We hoped, that if we gave Chuck what He wanted, broke the bond between Him and Sam, He’d leave us alone for good. But we had no way to know for sure.” 

“What if it hadn’t worked?” Cas asks. 

Dean shrugs. “Then we would have figured out a Plan B.” 

“But it did work,” Sam points out, before they can get lost down a hole of what _could have would have almost_ happened. “Chuck’s gone. And honestly, I could use a drink,” he adds with a wry smile. “Coming back from the dead always leaves me with a dry throat.” 

That gets a laugh, and the four of them head back to the Bunker, leaving the coffin behind to burn another day. Dean cooks his famous burgers, Sam and Eileen make margaritas, and the four of them just take the time to enjoy the fact that they are alive, and they are _free._

And when Sam closes his eyes that night, safe in his own bed in the Bunker, he sees Dean’s eyes in the moment before he’d pulled the trigger. The moment Sam knew, one way or another, everything was going to work out. In his brother’s eyes, there is no rage, no betrayal, no sorrow, despite all the things they’d thrown back and forth at each other in their fake fight to draw Chuck’s attention.

No - the only thing Sam sees in his brother’s eyes, is determination.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos will be adored and cherished!


End file.
